


The Tiger Bites

by isthemachinesinging



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthemachinesinging/pseuds/isthemachinesinging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha’s taking a new picture with the surreal tiger-man, but his idea for staging it doesn’t quite work out as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tiger Bites

Misha holds up the phone, squinting one eye as he thumbs the camera’s view back onto them.  Ben paces back, reaches out to grab at his shoulder. Misha shakes his head.

“That’s what you did before. Let’s do something different this time.”

Ben sighs. The tiger makeup is honestly starting to get annoying; he’s been thinking he should have gone with a mask of some kind. He kind of wants to get this finished, get it off.

“So, what then?”

Misha frowns and bites at his lip, watching Ben on the screen of his phone.

“Bite me.”

“What?”

“Bite me. Bite my neck.” He gestures. “My throat. You’re a tiger, right? So bite me.”

There are a thousand responses that run through Ben’s mind; everything from _don’t you think that’s a bit intimate_  to  _you’re thinking of vampires_  to  _no way in hell, Misha, come up with something else_. He opens his mouth to tell Misha that’s a ridiculous idea, he’s not putting his mouth on his neck, that’s practically kissing him, and…

_Well, no. Just no. Let’s stop there._

What comes out is, “All right, man.” His traitorous mouth. He bares his teeth and sees Misha’s answering grin on the phone’s screen.

“Um.” Misha fiddles with the phone again. Ben waits politely, shifting and tilting his head. He finds himself staring at Misha’s neck, focusing on the curve where neck meets shoulder, the smooth skin there. No, too low. And not too high, not too close to his ear, his face. He bares his teeth again.

“Got it.” Misha holds the phone higher, arches his head to one side, exposing his neck like a vampire’s consort. Ben grins despite himself. He snakes forward, one hand on Misha’s shoulder, and presses his mouth lightly against Misha’s neck, teeth barely grazing the skin. He hears the click-ksh of the camera, and pulls back.

That’s what he meant to do.

Really. He meant to pull back.

Instead, he bites down softly, gently. He can feel the beat of Misha’s pulse, and his tongue darts out to lick at the skin over it, tasting.  Misha gasps—more in surprise than anything, he thinks—and leans back against him. Ben wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer, feeling Misha’s heartbeat under his hand and under his mouth. He moans, and tries to disguise it as a growl –

_This is okay, still, this isn’t anything._

—but it comes out as a soft, tight  _Oh_ , muffled against Misha's throat. And Misha pushes back against him in earnest at that, his hand coming up to cover Ben’s on his chest, his head twisting around so his cheek presses against Ben’s forehead.

“Ben, what—-“

Ben presses his face against Misha’s neck, closing his mouth, feeling the pulse under his lips, faster, thrumming now. He tries to pull his arm back, to step away, but Misha curls his hand tighter around his and holds it tightly to his chest. Ben closes his eyes, but he can feel the flex of Misha’s muscles, and he thinks that Misha is holding the camera up again.

“Good thing that first one took. I don’t think I’d take a picture of this. Not what I thought we were going for here.” His voice shakes slightly. Ben shivers at the vibration, and he wants to lick at Misha’s throat again, taste the way the flesh trembles as he speaks.

_No licking things. That’s how we got into this situation in the first place._

He hears Misha “hrrmm” softly and then there is a quiet rustle that he thinks is Misha putting the phone back in his pocket. That seems to break the spell; Ben inhales and pulls back. Misha releases his hand, but twists his body around in the same moment. He reaches out to grasp at Ben’s hair, his fingers twining into it. He pulls, turning Ben’s face to his.

Sweet pain. He does moan this time, it’s startled out of him and there’s no way he could disguise it as a growl. It’s mostly pain; that’s what he tells himself anyway, feeling Misha’s breath ghosting against his. He wonders if Misha’s going to kiss him, or if he just wanted a better look, trying to figure out how exactly they got from there to here. He’s suddenly glad for the tiger makeup; he can feel how flushed his face is, blood heating his cheeks. But Misha just regards him silently, studying him, locking Ben’s eyes with his own.

“Ben…” There’s nothing more. Misha licks his lips—just an unconscious gesture, probably, really, but Ben feels something in him twist at the sight, shiver and spark down his spine to— _Oh. Oh God._

_Oh shit._

Misha’s still pressed against him, and that’s no good, definitely not good. That’s not helping. He lowers his hands to Misha’s hips and pushes him away, so their bodies are no longer touching.  Misha’s hand is still wrapped in Ben’s hair, and now his mouth quirks up in a knowing grin.

_Yeah, okay, that was a pretty goddamn obvious move, wasn’t it?_

And then Misha’s other hand is also twisting into Ben’s hair, and he’s pulling him in, kissing him, sudden and hard and fierce, licking and biting at his lips. Ben opens his mouth to him. He tastes good, sweet and hot like cinnamon, and—

_Stop it. This is too far, way too far. Okay, it was too far a while ago. But really. Stop it._

As if Misha’s heard, he pulls back, hands drifting down to cup Ben’s face, then settling briefly on his shoulders. And, finally, he steps back, and back again. Ben moves to step back as well, mirroring him, but hits a wall. He leans against it, pressing his hands against the cool surface. Part of him hopes Misha will just walk away—he’ll stay here and lean against this nice wall and…cool off. Part of him wants to say  _this didn’t happen, all right?_ And yeah, part of him wants to reach out, pull him close and continue that kiss, lick and bite his way down his neck, and oh he’d be pressing him against the wall and grinding into him and oh  _fuck_ —

_But we’re not going to listen to that part. So that part needs to sit down and shut up._

Ben shifts, not sure what to say. “You've got some…probably want to clean your face. And your…” He gestures to his own neck. He can feel himself blushing.

Misha nods and shrugs, starts rummaging through his pockets. He clears his throat. “Well, that's not really what you would expect, getting bitten by a tiger.”

Despite himself, despite the maelstrom in his mind— _what the hell just happened?—_ Ben has to laugh.


End file.
